


in retrospect

by edibleflowers



Series: do not go gentle [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edibleflowers/pseuds/edibleflowers
Summary: After the fight on the train to Cartanica, Gladio reflects on the recent past.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Arumattie for the prompt and the helpful suggestions. This was basically an attempt to reconcile the fact that there is no moment in the game where Noct and Gladio get over the argument or fight or whatever you want to call it, and I really felt like there should have been. (Of course, things happen so fast after that, but still.) Set during Chapter 11 of "our eyes are covered by night".

It's still dark outside, but Gladio can't sleep.

Not that he's been sleeping very well anyway. Ever since Altissia, it seems like he's been lucky if he grabs two or three hours at a stretch. Between worrying about Noctis -- and about Ignis -- and feeling more and more like they're going in the wrong direction, he can't seem to shut his brain off at night to rest. 

At least he doesn't have to worry about Prompto. He'd thought he might, back at the beginning of the roadtrip -- back when everything still felt innocent and that they might succeed in making it to Altissia without too many problems -- but Prompto's matured a lot in just the past couple of months. Part of it, Gladio thinks, is his relationship with Ignis, but some of it is just that he's been stepping up to the responsibilities of being Crownsguard, meeting the expectations set on him and then some. Since Altissia, he's practically been Ignis's right arm, helping him without fawning or being too solicitous. Ignis is still learning to navigate his environment, and given his druthers Gladio would have preferred to leave him at the train station above them rather than have him here with them, but with Prompto acting as Ignis's eyes, the situation isn't as bad as it could be.

So he worries, but he can at least leave part of the burden of care with Prompto and feel all right with that.

The real problem, and the one Gladio feels worst about, is Noctis. 

Gladio shifts, tries to get comfortable again. They'd made camp in a small haven within the mining site, probably where workers stayed when they couldn't get out for the night. Noct, still angry and not bothering to hide it, had flung himself into one side of the tent; Gladio had taken the other, since his company clearly wasn't welcome, which left the middle of the tent for Prompto and Ignis. The pair are still curled around each other, legs tangled together, seeking comfort in each other even in sleep.

Gladio can't blame them. Even so, he'll find no comfort tonight. He pushes up, quietly, slips out of the tent and into the open air.

The swampy morass around them is anything but still. It's cool, at least, though the air still hangs heavy with the stench of stagnant water and the beasts that dwell here. Most are quiet for the night, but he still hears the occasional splash of water or a snap as something takes a bite at something else. He settles in one of the camp chairs and reaches for a stick to poke at the dying embers of the fire.

There's a book on the ground by the chair, but Gladio doesn't bother trying to read; it's too dark, and would be even if he rebuilt the fire. He'd try to play some King's Knight or even some solitaire or something, but his phone's low on its charge and they have yet to descend into the cavern proper. There's no point in patrolling or even keeping a watch, since the runes etched into the haven's outer edges keep it protected from daemons and beasts of all kinds. All he can do, really, is sit and think about everything.

As a rule, Gladio isn't given to self-contemplation. He prefers action to thinking, knows he isn't one for diplomacy or negotiation. Not that he has anything against intellect and reason: they're just not his strong suits.

Nowhere has that been more clear than in the past couple of weeks. Gladio still winces when he thinks of his harsh words on the train from Altissia. He was angry; he'd been simmering for a while. Ever since Noct woke up, really. At first, he'd just been glad that Noctis was whole and conscious, even if he didn't seem to want Gladio's comfort. Gladio had tried to give him space. Noct's been through a lot in the past couple of months, after all. First his father's death (which he suspects Noct still hasn't fully processed) and the occupation of Insomnia; the long stretch of frustrated inability to move forward while simultaneously dealing with Titan and then Ramuh; and now the destruction of Altissia along with Luna's death, Ignis's injuries, and the physical exertion of Leviathan's trial.

(Even though Noct wasn't in love with Luna -- Gladio knew that -- it still devastated him to lose one of his closest friends since childhood. She'd been there for him, helped him through the recovery after his childhood injury, had remained a constant in his life. Gladio didn't blame Noct for being hurt.)

The problem was that they _did_ have to keep moving on, despite all that. Real life didn't stop demanding everything from them just because they'd all been hurt. For that matter, it demanded more from Noct than any of them. He's the King of Lucis now. It'd be different if they were just normal people. Noct could take his time, grieve, mourn, move on when he was ready. Gladio could be there for him to support him without having to worry about any greater concerns than the man he loved.

Rustling alerts him before he sees movement; he doesn't turn, though, in case it's one of the others needing some privacy to pee. But Noctis steps out of the tent and, after a moment's hesitation, sits in his chair, across from Gladio. He makes a seemingly-careless gesture with one hand, and the fire ignites again: not to the full blaze of earlier, but a smaller, warm glow that staves off the immediate darkness.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gladio asks.

Noctis just shakes his head, hunching over himself and rubbing his hands over his arms as if he's cold. Gladio knows it's bad when Noct, legendary for sleeping in, can't rest.

"Don't feel like I ever want to sleep again," Noctis says after a silence stretched long enough that Gladio has to remind himself what Noct's responding to. Gladio shifts in his seat, uncomfortable.

"You should," he says, though without any authoritative push behind his tone. "If you don't rest, you're gonna be too exhausted to do anything."

"Yeah, I _know_ that," Noct replies, testy.

Gladio inhales, rubs a hand over his face. "That came out wrong," he says. "I'm sorry." He looks back at the low fire, sparks and embers escaping from the flames in little spiraling flutters. "I'm sorry for a lot of things," he goes on, quieter. It's easier to talk without looking at Noct. "I'm sorry for what happened to your dad. I'm sorry we didn't have time to let you deal with it. And I'm sorry about Luna, and about what happened with Ignis. I'm sorry we can't just stop and take time to process it."

"I know." Noct's quiet now, too, his voice full of regret.

"And I'm sorry I yelled at you the way I did," Gladio says at last. "I could have handled it a lot better. I should have--"

"It doesn't matter."

"Yeah, it does," Gladio says, and now he does look at Noct, whose face is turned away. Gladio can only make out his profile, a dark eye half-hidden below lank bangs. "I took out a lot of my frustration on you, and I shouldn't have done that."

"Maybe, but you were right," Noct says. "It was a valid point. I don't have time to sit around wallowing in self-pity. If we're gonna save Lucis and stop the Starscourge, there's no time for that stuff."

It's weird to hear his own words reflected back at him. Gladio guesses this is what negotiation might be about: seeing things from another person's point of view.

"I'm sorry anyway," Gladio says, and scrubs a hand through his hair. "This has all been a lot of shit for all of us. And I can't make it better for you. I can't protect you from it."

"Yeah," and suddenly Noct's voice is strained. "What's up with that, anyway? Some Shield you are."

Gladio blinks at Noct. "Was that a _joke_?"

Noct's throat works. He's looking at Gladio now, his eyes glittering in the firelight. "I'm out of practice, I know, but. Yeah. Look," he goes on. "I know this has been rough on everyone, and I, uh. Thanks for kickin' my ass around. I needed it. I--" He rakes a hand through his hair, making it even more of a mess than it already was. When he looks up at Gladio again, his eyes are lost; he looks exhausted, alone, scared. He holds out a hand. "I need you. Please."

Gladio shakes his head, fighting the tremor that goes through him. For the first time in days, he feels weirdly at ease. He shouldn't, not with everything they've still got ahead of them. But Noct's coming out of it, despite all the odds, and it gives him the strength to go to Noct and pull him up into his embrace. Noct sags hard against him, face tucked into his shoulder; Gladio cups the back of Noct's head, presses kisses into his hair.

"Let's get some sleep," he murmurs. "We're gonna need it."


End file.
